All That is Left
by Cappering
Summary: On Korvash the Imperium has just arrived, yet the ways of the four winds, Chaos, are old. As the Imperium spreads poverty and inequality accross this world the citizens may turn to the old ways for new beginnings.


This is Suicide.

The thought was not as terrifying as it once was for Connovar. Their chance of successfully stealing from the governor was slim, but their fate should they not try was sure. Since his arrival from the skies, the governor's palace was the only place where one could find food in abundance, a painful contradiction to the situation outside its walls.

Ducking into a doorway, he studied his surroundings. The granaries were at the end of the hall he was sure but arbites seemed to be around every corner. Twice already Conn had needed to hide in a nearby room to avoid them, which he did not feel confident with given the sounds coming from the rooms he was passing. Crouching for the final length of the hall he ran to the end, placing his ear to door as he arrived. The room sounded empty and the door felt light enough to open without a sound. Conn scanned the room as he entered, there was enough food for him and his family for a month and not a soul was present. This was the best possible outcome and he found himself thanking the four winds of his people and considered even this "emperor" the offworlders seemed to worship.

As if the four winds themselves were punishing him for his conceived blasphemy Conn heard footsteps from the hall. Grabbing a large kitchen knife from a counter he hid in a nearby pantry. He could hear the muffled sounds of conversation now and could tell from the strangely accented words that it was one of the offworlders. Hopefully it would be a scribe or dignitary just getting a quick meal but more, likely Conn knew, it would be arbites. Through the slats it became clear this was the case. Their masked faces peered menacingly around even as the squad of 5 chatted idly.

All hopes they would just leave without disturbing Conn's visiting place vanished as one trooper veered off to inspect the pantry in which he hid. Seeing his hiding spot threatened Conn retreated into the shadow of the door at least hoping for surprise should confrontation be necessary. The trooper pulled back on the door while simultaneously reaching into the pantry as Conn struck out with his knife. Catching the trooper on the wrist the knife slid cleanly through the joint in the armour and the troopers hand fell free. As the trooper recoiled holding to the stump of where his hand used to be Conn rushed out slicing into the arbites neck before diving forwards into his comrades. Surprised as the arbites were, he felled two in quick succession with precise slices to the necks. A third gained some wits and brought his sparking mace around to slam into Conn. Dodging this clumsy blow Conn was able to stick his knife into the trooper's helmet where it stayed, stuck more firmly than Conn's starved frame could free.

Weapon less now, Conn looked around for a weapon. In his frantic search he almost missed the frightened fumbling of the last trooper with his laspistol holster. Knowing the power of the weapon first hand from "demonstrations" that lead to many of his friends dead Conn threw himself to his right. Despite this the laser fired an instant later singed his side as it grazed his lower ribs. The pain was intense but there was another feeling there, incredibly powerful rage consumed him, his vision fading to red as the blood wind consumed him. From a crouch he launched a spear tackle at the final arbites. Despite his slight, 15 year old, frame he knocked the offworlder from his feet. Baring his world's uncannily large and sharp teeth he bit into the man's neck. Blood flowed and the troopers struggling slowed and finally stopped as Conn regained his wits from his unchecked rage.

Thinking clearly once more Connovar collected what bread and dried meat he could carry and snuck out of the palace. On his journey back to his home all he could think of was the taste of blood on his lips and the pure freedom it represented to him now. These arbites could die, they all would die, for the four winds show their favour.


End file.
